Boring. That sums up, if not my 13th summer, then at least the diary that chronicles it. One of my favorite pages, though, is that summer's reading list.
Drug addiction and unwed mothers. Nazi camps, classic tortured love and more.
I inhaled these books, the way Harry Potter's Voldemort needs to feed off another to survive. You might interrupt me mid-chapter and find that far-away look of a reader lost in a story.
Boring? Maybe. Or was it just the diary's misguided writer? I wonder now if "lucky" better describes the real story.
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2 comments:
ah - sounds like summers before TV ruled. I am curious about the titles on your list.
Are the books with asterisks the favorites or something? I would think. Did I ever tell you about the time I was in a cabin at Windy Gap with Catherine Marshall's kids, stepkids, and other relatives? I was in the nosebleed section (third high bunk) and just listened in to the post-lights-out conversations they had remembering Peter Marshall and Catherine and all. I was like a fly on a very high wall.
Anyway...nice list...I was probably reading Nancy Drew.
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